Gods and Brothers
by DevilSaidBang
Summary: Gabriel meets Sam, and decided the boy is his, regardless of Heaven's plan. He just didn't count on the kids family making it this difficult. Sam's POV (Supernatural and associated characters belong to respective bodies)
1. Chapter 1

Ten year old Sam Winchester sat on the park bench, watching the younger children play on the jungle gym. He slumped backwards, ignoring the whispering of the group of mothers to his left on a cluster of picnic blankets. He could smell the food and it was making his stomach clench painfully.

Dad was out of town. He'd left them at a motel two weeks ago, but he'd only left enough food and money for just over one. He knew Dean was stealing food for them for dinner, and he believed that Sam's school offered free lunch. It didn't, but Sam didn't want the increased chance that Dean would be caught stealing. If that happened, who knew what sort of governmental groups would get involved, and then he might be separated from Dean. Nothing was worse, in Sam's eyes, than not having his big brother. The idea gave him shivers.

Sam glanced up at the sun, judging the amount of time that had passed. He was already late back from lunch, he decided, tilting his face up into the comfortable warmth, there wasn't much point going back only to be sent to the office for being late, and it was Latin anyway. He spoke fluent Latin. It was one of the odd things Dad had insisted he learn. He didn't mind the academics so much. Sam loved knowledge the way some other boys loved sport. The self-defence training, however, hurt. But Dean insisted he keep it up, so Sam kept it up. Anything to make his big brother smile.

"Hello." Sam started, glancing to his right. He hadn't even heard the boy approach. Dean would be disappointed in him. The boy had honey coloured eyes, messy, dark blond hair, and tan skin. He was older than Sam, he judged, but younger than Dean. "I'm Gabe." He offered his hand, honey coloured eyes intent on Sam.

"Sam." He offered, watching curiously as shock flickered across Gabe's expression as Sam's palm came in contact with him. Gabe, however, was trying to muffle his Grace, as it sang brighter than it had since he had left Heaven, all those years ago

"What are you doing at the park?" Gabe asked curiously. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"Shouldn't you?" Sam retorted. It was unexpected when Gabe threw his head back and laughed.

"Not at all, Sammy. I don't go to school." Gabe was grinning like he knew something that Sam didn't.

"It's Sam." He corrected automatically. Only Dad and Dean were allowed to call him Sammy.

"Alright, Sammy." Gabe drawled, ignoring Sam's scowl. "Do you want to go do something? This park is pretty boring, you know."

"This whole town is boring." Sam complained half-heartedly. All the towns he lived in were small and boring.

"Then we'll go somewhere else." Gabe declared, raising his right hand, fingers poised. At Sam's interested nod, he snapped his fingers.

They were in a bowling alley, half filled with people. Sam stared around himself, curious.

"Don't tell me you've never been bowling?" Gabe sounded horrified.

"Where are we?" Sam was awed. This wasn't in the town they were in at all. They hadn't moved, but they were no longer in the park. How had Gabe done it?

Gabe just grinned at him, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Ten pin bowling is the sport of gods, you know."

"I need to be back at school by the time the bell goes." Sam insisted worriedly. "Dean will freak out if I'm not there when he gets there."

"Don't worry, Sammy," Gabe declared breezily. "I'll have you back at school in time." He sucked contentedly on a spoon.

"Where did the giant sundae come from?" Sam stared at the mounds of ice cream and chocolate sauce in bemusement.

"I wanted it." Gabe seemed to think this was a matter of course. A second spoon was suddenly being twirled in his fingers. "And you do too." He extended the spoon. Sam took it gingerly, taking a tentative bite of the absurd dessert. His eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

"That's wonderful." He declared, pleased. Gabe was staring at him, wide eyed. Sam flushed. "Uh, sorry."

He cleared his throat. "It's not your fault, Sammy." He turned away, muttering something under his breath that Sam didn't quite catch. "Let's bowl, anyway." He grinned. "The ice cream will still be there between turns."

Sam slumped in the back seat of the Impala, staring sullenly out the window. He'd had nearly three months of adventures with Gabe, adventures that Dad and Dean didn't believe happened, and he didn't want to leave this town, leave Gabe. Gabe was the best friend he'd ever had. He wiped a hand hurriedly across his face, sniffing silently. Winchesters didn't cry.

~~SPN~~

The next place Dad left them in was an old apartment that smelt of mildew. Watermarks stained the walls, and the carpet was threadbare. The furniture was basic and rickety, but it was included in the rent, so neither boy had room for complaints.

Sam was enrolled in school, as he always was. His teacher, an old lady, Susan McAlister, 'call me Miss Mac,' made him stand in front of the class for an introduction. "Do you want to tell us anything about yourself, Sam?" She smiled at him with her lipstick stained mouth.

Sam stared at her for a moment. What was the point, he was going to be gone again soon enough. But she was staring at him expectantly. "I travel around with my Dad for his work." Sam decided, "Which is why I've moved here for the next few months."

Sam settled into the seat Miss Mac indicated and did his best to pay attention.

He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Dean insisted it was too long and was constantly threatening to cut it while Sam slept. It seemed that everyone believed he shouldn't be able to write a coherent sentence because of his age.

Lunchtime arrived and Sam sighed with relief. His brother was waiting in the cafeteria, money casually in his hands for Sam to buy lunch. "Hey, Sammy." Dean ruffled his hair, grinning, for once ignoring the other boys in favour of Sam.

"Sammy," a familiar voice cut through the buzz of conversation in the cafeteria and Sam froze. That was impossible. How could Gabe possibly be here? But even as he was thinking it, he was turning away from Dean to see the blond approaching him, grinning widely.

Dean tensed at the sight of him. "Who's that, Sammy?" He had stiffened, and his voice was low and angry, suspicion writ large across his features.

"It's Gabe." He was already hurrying to meet him half way, Dean keeping in step easily.

Gabe was beaming at him, eyes bright and amused at Sam's shock. "But how are you here, Gabe?"

The blond made a show of polishing his nails on his shirt. "I have my ways, Sammy." He winked at him.

Dean was leaning down, eyes narrowed. "What are you, kid?"

"Dean." Sam pushed him back. "What are you doing?"

"Looking out for my little brother Sammy," Dean deflected, "Go grab lunch. _Gabe_ and I will be right here waiting for you."

Sam stalked off in a huff.

Dean's eyes fixed on Gabriel's. "What are you, and what do you want with Sammy?" He snarled furiously, keeping half an eye out for teachers.

Gabe didn't even flinch, seeming to disregard that Dean was significantly taller and larger than him. "I am Sammy's friend, Dean-o." Gabe drawled. He twirled a lollipop stick around his fingers. "And I'm going to be around for a long while. He'll need someone that's not you for what's coming."

Dean leaned forward. "What are you talking about?" His hazel eyes were narrowed and enraged.

Gabe ignored him. "Hey, Sammy." Sam didn't even flinch at the fingers resting on his elbow as he stalked past the two of them, clearly in a huff.

"I'm not talking to either of you." Sammy declared petulantly, flinging himself into a chair and dropping the tray holding his lunch onto the metal table. "You were arguing."

"No we weren't, Sammy," Dean immediately denied, looking to Gabe for support.

"We were establishing boundaries, is all, Sammy." Gabe's fingers still rested on Sam's forearm, although neither of them seemed to be aware of it.

Suspicious green eyes examined both of them, and Gabe and Dean carefully looked an innocent as they could manage. Eventually he huffed. "Fine then."

Gabe was sprawled across Sam's lumpy bed after school. He'd somehow managed to arrange himself so that he avoided all the broken springs. "Aren't you worried about your Dad, hunting by himself?" He asked curiously,

Sam put his pen on the desk and spun in his rickety chair to stare at Gabe. "What are you talking about? Dad's doesn't hunt."

Gabe looked suddenly awkward. "They haven't told you?" He faltered. "Oh. Wow. Okay then. That makes a lot of sense. I wondered why you never researched what your Dad was hunting."

"Researched?" Sam's eyes narrowed. "What does my Dad hunt, Gabe?"

Gabe shifted uncomfortably on the bed, before snapping his fingers. Sam was suddenly in a forest, staring at the most horrifying creature he had ever seen. It was animalistic, although clearly had once been human. It was tall and emaciated, with elongated limbs and claws instead of fingernails. Sam choked, shuddering slightly. The creature lifted its head and scented the air, a growl rippling through the stillness of the forest. No other creatures moved while this thing hunted, survival instincts killing in.

"It's called a Wendigo." Gabe explained, voice soft, even as he gripped Sam's hand. "It's a creature that was once human, but changed after specific sets of circumstances. They prey on humans, although they only wake every thirty years or so."

They were back in the bedroom. Sam was staring at Gabe with wide, traumatised eyes. "I'm sorry, Sammy." Gabe engulfed him in a hug, pressing his cheek to the top of Sam's head. "That's the sort of thing your Dad hunts. Creatures that people don't believe exist. Monsters and supernatural creatures that hurt other people."

Sam swallowed, wiping his damp eyes on Gabe's shirt. "That's why we move so often, isn't it, and why Dad insists we learn all the things we do, the Latin and weapons and everything." Gabe nodded, silently.

Sam swallowed. "Will you always be there?" He asked tremulously.

Gabe's hug tightened, and his Grace sang, even suppressed as it was. "Of course, Sammy. You're mine. I'll never leave you behind."

"I guess I don't mind moving all the time, then." Sam decided. "But that means there's so much to learn." He leaned back, his eyes bright and delighted at the idea.

Gabe groaned, but nodded. "Yes, there really is."

Dad came back, bleeding and tired. Sam watched anxiously. He'd been studying as much as he could, disregarding the extracurricular activities he usually insisted on. "He was hunting a poltergeist," Gabe explained to him, huddled together on the couch. Dean glanced at them sharply, but John didn't even seem to see Gabe.

"So, an exorcism?" Sam kept his voice low, watching his dad as he slumped on the bed, exhausted and barely conscious. Gabe nodded.

"How have you been, boys?" Dad asked, smiling tiredly.

Dean smiled, proud. "Sammy was top of his class." He announced, ruffling Sam's hair. Dad smiled vaguely, clearly not really interested. Sam wanted to mention the demonic omens he'd found the next state over, but he wasn't sure how his Dad would react to that statement. Gabe had been proud, but even Dean didn't seem to realise Gabe was there all the time, and he didn't think Dad wanted him knowing about the monsters yet.

Dean looked awkward for a moment. "Can we talk for a minute, Dad?" He asked, when he thought Sam wasn't paying attention.

"Tomorrow, Dean, alright? I'm beat right now."

"Yes sir."

~~SPN~~

Sam sprawled on the grass, glancing at the Impala. Dad had stopped on their way out of town to talk to Dean, telling Sam to go play.

"What do you think they're talking about?" He asked Gabe curiously.

"You, probably." Gabe admitted. "You suddenly knowing about hunting, and being the best researcher they could have hoped for." He grinned slightly, lifting himself on his elbows. "Do you want to go watch?" He asked curiously.

"I'd feel bad." Sam admitted. "Unlike some beings I could mention, I have a conscience."

Gabe gaped at him. "Being?" He sounded insulted.

"Well, you're clearly not human." Sam insisted, focussing on Gabe. "The continuous candy supply, the ability to be anywhere in an instant? Not really normal, Gabe."

Gabe sighed, head tilting back into the sun. "I was hoping you wouldn't question that for a while yet." He admitted with a sigh. "I'm a demigod."

Sam stared, jaw slack. "What are you doing with me?" He demanded disbelievingly.

"You're mine, Sammy. I wouldn't leave your safety to anyone else."

"Alright." Sam shook his head. "Alright. Which one, then?"

Gabe flushed slightly. "I'm the Trickster." He admitted reluctantly, watching Sam cautiously for his reaction.

Sam stared at him for a moment. Gabe's stomach dropped at the wariness in his eyes. "Are you tricking me?" He asked quietly. Gabe's heart lurched at the vulnerability Sam was displaying.

"God, Sammy, no." He lurched forward onto his knees, clinging to Sam. "No." He shook his head. "You are mine. I couldn't do that to you." His forehead was pressed into Sam's stomach, terrified to look at his face.

Small hands smoothed over his head. "Alright Gabe." Gabe released a shuddering breath. "Alright. It's alright. You're my Gabe." Only when Sam began to wordlessly croon to him did Gabe realise he was crying. The idea of Sam leaving him, banishing him, was overwhelming. Even if the banishment for a Trickster wasn't really going to work on him, he had to make it look like it would so Heaven would never find him. So if Sam banished him that was it. He shivered at the idea.

"This imaginary friend is ridiculous, Sam." John snapped, gripping Sam's upper arms hard enough to bruise. "You're too old for this nonsense. You were too old when you created it. You're thirteen, for God's sake."

"Uh, Dad," Dean spoke up quietly.

"Not now Dean," John snapped.

"But Dad." Dean protested.

"I said, _not now."_

"I say now." A new voice interrupted, and Sam nearly shuddered in relief at the sound of fifteen year of Gabe's voice. "Let go of Sammy."

John turned, eyes blazing. "Who the hell are you?"

Gabe's smile was razor sharp. "I'm Sam's friend, Gabe."

Sam had shoved past his Dad, flinging himself at the blond. Dean watched, grinning slightly. "Where have you been?" Sam demanded with a gasp. "I was so worried."

Gabe's hand smoothed over shaggy hair. "Sorry Sammy." He dropped his forehead against Sam's. "We had a meeting. I can't get out of them." He grinned. "On the plus side, I only have to do it every hundred years, except in cases of the Apocalypse."

"Who the hell are you?" John Winchester's strident voice cut through the space the two boys had created.

"I told you," Gabe rolled his eyes. "I'm Gabe." He grinned. "I'm a Trickster."

John froze. "You're a monster."

Gabe's eyes chilled. "No, Mr Winchester. I am a demigod. I deliver justice to those that deserve it."

"You're a monster." He scoffed. "I should kill you now."

Gabe's eyes narrowed. Sam shivered as the room filled with the feel of Gabe's power, the feeling like just after a lightning strike, making the hairs on Sam's arms prickle. "You will not." His voice rang with power, like two voices spoke simultaneously. It was weight and noise and light. Sam staggered under the onslaught. John buckled completely, staring at the teenaged body in horror.

"You will not separate me from Sammy." Gabe snarled. His voice was low, which was always scarier than when he yelled. The mad smile of the Trickster spread across his face. "Sammy is mine, more than he is yours, and as much as he is Dean's. You can do nothing to change that."

John's eyes narrowed at the challenge. Sam pressed a hand to Gabe's chest. "Come on, Gabe." His voice was pitched low and soothing. "It's fine. I will never let anything separate us. You know that."

Gabe relaxed slowly, sinking back down into his own skin. "I know Sammy."

~~SPN~~

Sam peered through the window. "There's something wrong with the way that thing has attached itself to Sam." His Dad's voice insisted. "The fact that it still gets into the apartment, with all the protections we've been putting up everywhere doesn't make sense. I don't think it's a Trickster though. It doesn't fit."

"I know, Dad, but what can we do about it?" Sam staggered slumping against the motel wall. Dean agreed with their Dad? But Dean was Sam's big brother. He was meant to defend him. Maybe Gabe was right, and they weren't completely trustworthy. His Dad was very black and white. At least Pastor Jim and Uncle Bobby saw shades of grey.

"I've been working on something. But we'll try an exorcism first. If that doesn't work, we'll research this other option I've been looking into. It might take a while though."

Dean sighed heavily. "Alright. Do we want to do it tonight then?" His Dad grunted agreement.

Gabe hand made him jump, almost banging his head against the window sill. "I heard, Sammy." He murmured, crouching next to the young boy. "It won't work, but it might be best if I stay away for a while, just until your Dad forgets about whatever it is that he's planning. It doesn't sound pleasant."

Sam clung to Gabe. "I don't care. I don't want to be separated from you." Tears filled his eyes. "You're my best friend."

Gabe's eyes softened. "I love you, kiddo, and I'll always come back." He rested his hand against the back of Sam's neck. "We'll just have to be clever about it. I won't show up in front of Dean or your Dad."

Am nodded, sniffing and wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve. "I guess." He hiccupped. "But I'll miss having you around."

Gabe pressed his cheek to Sam's head. "I'll always come back to you, Sammy." He swore, not noticing the flare of power at the words.

Sam shivered as he sat at the table, sandwiched between his dad and his brother.

"We need to talk to you, Sammy."

"It's Sam." He muttered.

"_Sam._ We need to talk to you." Dad rose to his feet. "Just come on." His grip on Sam's shoulder was bruising as he led him out of the house.

John stopped, and Sam noticed the symbol painted onto the ground. There were several items scattered around the circle. Dean tossed them all in a bowl and set it alight as John began chanting in a language Sam didn't know.

He felt an uncomfortable tugging at his solar plexus. "What are you doing?" He demanded. This felt wring. What if it did stop Gabe from coming back? He'd seemed so certain, but it was possible he'd underestimated his dad.

The chanting slowed, before John's voice rose again. Sam staggered and retched, clutching at his stomach. God. What if this hurt Gabe? He'd never be able to forgive himself. Finally, finally, his dad stopped chanting, and the flames went out.

"There." John sighed in relief. "It's done."

Sam lay in the dirt and sobbed. Something in him was missing and it hurt. He ignored Dean as he gently picked him up and carried him back to the motel room, murmuring nonsense reassurance. Sam didn't want to hear it, didn't want to talk to his brother, the traitor.

Several weeks passed in a daze. Gabe didn't visit him once. Sam silently went about his school work, coming straight back to wherever they were staying after class and burying himself in research. He was creating a creature journal, compiling all the confirmed information he could find for future reference. Dean thought whatever he was doing was cute, and an excellent example of him forgetting about the 'supernatural parasite.' Sam was just desperate not to think about what was missing, and working was the best he could do.

~~SPN~~

Sam sprawled in his school's library. "Hey Sammy." A familiar voice whispered from the aisle.

Sam turned sharply, dropping the book on the table. "Gabe." He rushed over, pulling the other boy into a fiercely relieved hug. "I thought you were never coming back."

Gabe smiled, conjuring a lollipop. "I promised, didn't I, Samsquatch? I don't break promises to you." He grimaced slightly. "Your Dad's exorcism just packed more of a punch than I expected." His expression shifted to concern. "It was hurting you, too, I saw."

Sam nodded silently. "I was sick for nearly a week afterwards. Dean almost took me to hospital." He huddled against the slightly taller boy, burying his face into the soft shirt.

Gabe's arms wrapped him in a hug. "I'm sorry." He whispered. 'If I could have spared you that, I would have."

Sam nodded. He knew that. "I can make it so nothing short of everything will separate us. And you'll be able to tell when I'm near, and call me if you need me."

Sam's eyes widened in awe. "You can do that?"

Gabe grinned through his lolly. "Sammy. I'm a Trickster. I can do anything."

Two of Gabe's fingers were pressed against his forehead. The sensation was warm water and comfort, hot chocolate inside while it snowed, the scent of the Impala. Sam shuddered, an awareness of Gabe blossoming slowly. It wasn't large, or particularly obvious unless Sam thought about it, but it was there.

"I have no plans on losing you again, my Sammy." Gabe explained, smiling softly as his fingers swept down Sam's cheek.

Gabe appeared in front of Dean, eyes snapping furiously. Dean recoiled against the headboard, eyes wide in shock. He'd never seen Sammy's friend anything but teasing and happy. He'd also never seen him without Sam, however.

"Where is he?" Dean tried to push him away. Gabe tended to forget personal space when he was feeling emotional. The scrawny boy didn't even shift.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sammy." Gabe hissed. "You've hidden him from me. What have you done?"

Dean faltered. Dad hadn't let him go with them. In fact, he'd been quite insistent that Dean stay behind. "Sammy's with Dad."

Gabe started cursing, words spilling out in more languages than Dean recognised. He hauled Dean to his feet, dragging him down to his own height to snarl at him. "Why would you let that happen?" Gabe slumped, his fury abruptly leaving. Sam was lost to him. Whatever John Winchester had done had removed the bond that had been created between the two of them. "John Winchester thinks I'm a monster trying to harm your brother. He's already tried to exorcise me once."

Dean faltered. "He's our Dad." He started. "He wouldn't do something that would hurt Sam."

Gabe snarled, almost beyond coherence. He couldn't feel Sam. Nothing. He had been doing Trickster work, and hadn't been able to visit, and this had happened. Why had he left Sammy with these people? Loki clutched his hair, desperate and despairing. Sammy was his, dammit. "He thinks I'm trying to hurt Sam, and he will do anything to stop what he sees as a monster having influence over his son, even if that involves harming him."

Dean stiffened, trying to use his height to push the younger teen back. "Well, you're clearly _something."_

Gabe saw red. This human was challenging his claim on Sam? "I'm a fucking demi-god, boy, and you'd better watch your tone with me. Now, tell me where Sammy is."

"A what?" Dean was staring at Gabe. "What the fuck are you, and what do you want with my brother?" He leaned down. "He is mine to protect, Gabe, and if you're going to do anything to him, you will have to get through me."

Gabe bared his teeth. "I'm Loki, Winchester, and if you don't tell me where Sammy is, I will give you a front row seat to what I can do."

Hazel eyes widened, even as Dean fell back against the bed. Gabe snarled, reaching out with a power he no longer allowed himself to use and plucked the location directly from the boy's head, before vanishing with a snap of his fingers.

~~SPN~~

Singer Salvage Yard was quiet when John pulled up. "What are we doing here, Dad?" Sam asked fearfully. John had barely spoken on the four hour drive here. Sam's hands twisted anxiously in his lap. The only visited Uncle Bobby when Dad needed desperate help on a case, and he had no hunt right now, or when he didn't want Sam on a hunt over the summer.

"We're helping you, Sam." John insisted, even as he opened the door of the truck.

"Helping me with what?" Sam whispered. His eyes widened when Uncle Bobby and Pastor Jim stepped off the porch and slowly approached the car. Uncle Bobby was crushing his trucker cap in his hands, his biggest tell for nerves. "Guys?" Sam clung desperately to the seat. Whatever they were doing, he didn't want.

Pastor Jim grasped the bare skin exposed by Sam's overly large shirt at the base of his neck. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, Sam was sure, but there was something small and wooden resting on his palm, pressing into Sam's skin. "It's alright, lad," He murmured, eyes sympathetic, even as the charm started to burn.

"No," Sam thrashed, struggling desperately away from the hunters grip. "No, get off me." His voice rose into a terrified wail. Gabe had promised Sam would always be able to call him. The charm was severing that connection, that _sense_ of Gabe that rested in the back of his head. He turned brimming eyes to his father. "Why are you doing this?" His voice broke on a sob, and the tears spilled over, trailing down his white cheeks.

"You'll thank me for this, Sam," John insisted, standing back as Bobby escorted him inside, a firm hand on his shoulder.

Sam glanced at the man he considered family fearfully. "What are you doing?" He whimpered pitifully, tear streaked cheeks making Bobby cringe internally with guilt. His face softened in sympathy, even as his hands on Sam's shoulder guided him implacably downstairs, into the area Dean wasn't even allowed in. "Bobby?"

The door to the panic room was open, a symbol Sam didn't recognise painted onto the door, and the wall opposite. "I'm sorry, boy." Sam wasn't even sure he'd heard him correctly until he stumbled forwards from a solid push, and the door clanged shut behind him with a heavy sense of finality. The connection vanished.

Sam panicked, slamming against the door, screaming. "Uncle Bobby." His throat ached, "Uncle Bobby, let me out." His fists pounded on the steel door.

His dad's voice came through the barred slot in the top of the door. "This is for you, Sam."

"Dad?" Sam gasped out, horrified. "No! What are you doing? Why are you doing this?" He staggered back into the centre of the room, spinning in a circle. The symbol was painted on every wall, over the Devil's Trap and on the ceiling. Whatever it was doing, there was no escaping its effects.

"This will stop that supernatural bastard that's attached itself to you until whatever link it's created has died." John sounded pleased about this.

"Gabe?" His voice shook. "Gabe!" Silence was his only answer as the cover was slid back over the door and his father's footsteps moved away.

What had John _done?_ Sam was Gabe's. Didn't he understand that?

Sam sprawled on the floor, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. "Gabe." The Trickster would find him. Surely. Gabe had promised he'd always be able to find Sam. No symbol or charm could cut that connection.

Sam paced the room. He had been in here for a day already. His father was standing guard outside the room, like he expected Gabe to appear in front of him, even though he'd avoided it for six years. Six years John had believed his youngest was influenced by evil. Sam chewed on his bottom lip as his gaze swept the room, searching for something to distract him from the horrifying lack of Gabe.

An irregularity in the corner caught his eye on his third look. He moved over to it cautiously. A piece of metal, shrapnel from something else, lay forgotten in the corner. He picked it up gingerly, almost dropping it when the sharp edge cut through his skin, blood welling bright red on his pale hands. Sam stared at it for a long moment. His thoughts were slow, he knew, disconnected. Several minutes have passed before the idea solidified in his mind. "I have to break the symbol." He realised dully. Then, maybe, Gbe would be able to find him.

His body was heavy and clumsy as he moved to the wall, eyes fixed determinedly on the white painted image. He could do this. He couldn't forget this idea. It was important. _Gabe_ was important.

Sam knew he was drugged. Food seemed to appear at irregular times. His mind kept drifting, unable to grasp a single thought for more than a second. His father kept coming into the room, and he would pace, an odd little machine wailing a high pitched noise that made Sam's head ache awfully. Which meant, as far as Sam could tell, that whatever John was using wasn't as effective as he'd been expecting, or hoping. Maybe it wasn't specific to Gabe. There was, after all, a difference between tricksters and the Trickster.

Sam shifted in front of the symbol. He was nearly certain he should have finished by now, but his perception was doing odd things. He'd tried not eating, and gotten away with it for several days too, before his dad had come in and force fed him. At least he didn't guard the door anymore, probably deciding the hunt was more important.

The little piece of metal was almost blunt, no longer scraping the paint away as smoothly as it once had. But Sam had nothing else, so he continued his dogged work whenever he was left alone while conscious, which was depressingly infrequent. "Come on, Gabe." He whispered, gripping the shard until his knuckles were white. He was so tired.

The top slot open, and Bobby's gruff voice interrupted his silence. "How you doin', boy?"

"Bobby." His voice slurred and he cursed mentally. At least he was aware enough now to realise he was slurring, he supposed. He hoped Bobby didn't open the door. The symbol on the door was disrupted, several narrow sections missing in the paint, and he didn't want it painted over again.

"You all right, boy? You know your Daddy's just lookin' out for you."

Sam tried to resist, but Gabe had apparently been rubbing off on him more than he expected. "I'm just fucking dandy, Uncle Bobby," the sarcasm dripped from his words. "Trapped in your damned panic room and drugged."

Bobby flinched, eyes drawn inexorably to the food in his hands. John was drugging Sam? That was dangerous stuff. He hesitated, but pushed it through anyway, determined to change that for the boy, at least.

Sam stared at the tray, his stomach cramping painfully at the smell of food. But he didn't know what was drugged, and he was almost done. Hopefully he'd be out soon, before anyone else came to check on him. He listened as Bobby's footsteps receded before returning to his paint scraping.

He wasn't sure Gabe was even looking for him anymore. He knew he'd always been a form of entertainment to Gabe, the boy himself admitted that he didn't do friendships. Sam was sure he was bored now that Sam wasn't readily accessible when he was bored.

Panic flooded his system, even as he continued to nearly maniacally scratch at the paint, desperate to give Gabe a chance to prove him wrong.

Something in his mind stuttered as a piece of paint flaked away, settling back into place. Sam froze, barely daring to hope as his hands slowly lowered to the floor. "Gabe?" His head tilted back as he breathed the name.

"Hey kiddo." Arms were around his waist, clinging to him with something that, if it had been coming from anyone other than Gabe, would have been desperate relief.

Sam turned and buried himself against the eighteen year old, gasping out his name in relief.

Sam was almost too big for this, Loki mused, as his arms tightened around his Sammy's shoulders, relief flooding through him painfully. He had shot up like a weed in the last couple of years, and was now several inches taller than his vessel, although at sixteen, he was still lanky and gangly, not yet grown into himself.

His hand lifted to tangle in Sam's shaggy locks. "God, Sammy," he pressed his face against Sam's shoulder. "I was so scared. Thought I was never gonna find you again." Sam let out something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "What did they do, Sammy?" Gabe kept his voice low and soothing.

Sam lifted one hand reluctantly from its death grip on his shirt and exposed an elaborate knot burnt into the skin of his shoulder. Gabe growled before he could restrain himself. It hid Sam from all supernatural beings, turned him into a blind spot. It wasn't a bad idea, Gabe mused, if it didn't hide his Sammy from him. His fingers caressed the mark.

"This hides you from me, Sammy," Gabe explained, having to reign in his more murderous urges when Sam lifted tear damp eyes to meet his. "It hides you from everything supernatural, which wouldn't be bad if that didn't include me as well."

A damp chuckle escaped Sam at that, and Loki relaxed incrementally. Sam wasn't irreparably damaged from his father's actions. This was still salvageable. "I can do something similar." Gabe offered slowly, "But it will bind you to me." Sam nodded immediately, complete trust in his eyes. "Sammy, you need to be sure." Gabe insisted. "This will bind us more strongly."

"I get it, Gabe."

"Well," Gabe started awkwardly. "We should get out of here first. We need to talk, first."

"I can stay with you?" Sam looked up at him pleadingly.

"Of course, Sammy." Gabe murmured, one hand lifting slightly. He snapped his fingers, and after a brief moment of vertigo, Bobby's panic room was gone.

~~SPN~~

Gabe's apartment was small, and he came to on the couch. He rose, leaving Sam huddled, clearly dazed, huddled against the arm. Gabe pressed two fingers against his forehead. With a pulse of Grace, his system was cleared.

Gabe staggered. Whatever they'd used on him was dangerous, especially considering how long they must have had him on it. Sam's eyes were sharp when they met his. "Yeah, kiddo, that's what I needed to talk to you about." He admitted reluctantly. Sam leaned forward expectantly. "I'm not exactly Loki." The betrayal that flashed in his eyes felt like a kick in the chest. "Well, I am, but only for the last thousand or so years."

Sam hesitated. "How, exactly, is this working?"

"Well," Gabe swallowed heavily. He hadn't admitted this since he had left. "I'm Gabriel."

Sam froze. "Like the angel?" His voice squeaked.

Gabe flinched, but nodded. "Yeah. I've, uh, defected from Heaven, I guess you could say. Dad left, and it descended into infighting." He shivered, meeting Sam's eyes, desperate for him to understand. "I'm the Messenger, Sammy. I'm not meant to deal with my brothers and sisters fighting and killing each other."

Sam reached for him. "It's alright, Gabe," he soothed, drawing him forward gently, tugging until Gabe was curled in his lap. "It's alright." Fingers smoothed his hair gently. Gabe slowly relaxed. "Shouldn't you have wings though?"

Gabe relaxed. If Sam was asking questions like that, he clearly wasn't angry about his deception. "I'm not pleased that you lied to me for so long, but I'm going to assume there was a reason for it."

Gabe pressed his head against Sam's chest, relieved that he had not lost Sammy. "Outside of this space, if I use my Grace, the other angels will be able to find me. Outside, Loki is a Norse God, and I am below the notice of my family. It's the only way I can stay out of it. Heaven, after Lu and his followers Fell, wasn't the same. It wasn't true peace any longer, and I couldn't stay like that."

Sam pressed his cheek to Gabe's head. "It's alright," he repeated, "You've told me now, and that's what's important." Sam paused. "But why can't I see your wings?"

Gabe chuckled. "My wings are pure manifestations of my Grace. As you are now, they'd burn your eyes out of your skull."

Sam paused. "Ah."

Gabriel hesitated. "Are you still willing to take the mark?" He asked meekly.

"Of course." Sam scoffed. "You're still Gabe, there's just more to you now."

Gabe relaxed, reaching a hand up to smooth over the knot. Sam sighed as Gabe flooded his bloodstream. His skin shivered and twitched under Gabe's hand. "There." His voice was soft, hand lingering on the skin of his Sammy's throat. Sam shivered, leaning into the touch. His sense of Gabe was stronger now, more defined.

Gabe hesitated. He could feel the contentment radiating from Sam as he slumped, boneless, back in the seat.

Gabe hesitated, before leaning forward to press his lips to Sam's in a chaste kiss.

Sam leant against the arm of the couch in Gabriel's apartment. "I don't see why I can't see your wings, while we're in here." He complained half-heartedly.

Gabe lifted his head from Sam's lap. "I never said that." He denied, grinning. "You just never asked."

Sam paused, biting his bottom lip. "I'm asking now." He looked at Gabe hopefully, eyes large and limpid.

Gabe sighed. "I really can't resist that look. That's not fair, you take advantage of me."

But even as he spoke, he was rising to his feet. The air _shivered_, and suddenly wings spread from Gabe's back. Sam stretched out his hand. They were huge and bronze, taking up most of the space in the room. The bottom pair hung to the floor, the smallest. The two upper sets stretched to either side, the highest pair arching over his head to the high ceiling.

"They're beautiful." Sam whispered, awed. His fingers buried themselves in feathers, almost without his conscious control. The feathers were warm and soft, scented like the air after rain, and the sun on the grass, and sand and the ocean.

Gabe's eyes were wide, lips parted as he exhaled heavily. "Sammy." He gasped, reaching out to draw Sam's hands away.

Sam leant forward, one hand lifting to catch Gabriel's jaw in his fingers. "Gabe." His breath washed over Gabe's lips and the archangel shuddered. Sam hesitated, even as his fingers worked through the feathers of the upper wing. Gabe groaned, eyes falling shut. Sam closed the space, realising, even as something settled, that he'd always been Gabe's.

~~SPN~~

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to your family?" Gabe sounded genuinely concerned. His head was tucked against Sam's chest, fingers tracing absentminded patterns against his hip. Sam's eyes shifted to meet Gabe's. He sighed softly. "I do want to see Dean." He admitted softly. "Not Dad. And I don't know how Dean will react to that."

Gabe bared his teeth at the mention of John Winchester. Sam knew he probably shouldn't find that reassuring, but it settled the anxious roiling of his stomach at the thought of his family. Gabe wasn't going to let his father take him away from him.

It had only been two weeks since he escaped the panic room at Bobby's. He had spent most of it learning the fascinating person that was Gabriel, but he missed Dean like an ache. Gabe had been distracting him with learning the sympathetic abilities the bond they shared left him with.

It had made him a form of trickster, something he had no plans on sharing with any of the family he had. They'd try to bury a stake through his chest. Not that it would work, with the Grace currently bound to his soul. Apparently, not much would kill him now.

Gabe smoothed one hand through Sam's hair, tangling his fingers in the thick strands. "I can keep an eye on your brother, wait until he's separated from John before we visit him." I was gently offered, and Sam accepted gratefully.

"It's not that I'm not happy with you," he rushed to reassure his, what, boyfriend? Lover?

"I know, Samsquatch." He pressed his lips to the exposed skin of his chest. "Anything for you."

Dean stayed with John for more than three weeks. Sam used his new teleportation ability to keep an eye on the elder man.

Gabe snapped his fingers, his hand lightly on Sam's forearm.

"Holy shit!" Dean slammed the brakes on the Impala, sending it squealing, lurching to a stop in the centre of the empty stretch of highway. "Sammy?" He gaped. "What? How?"

"That would be me." Gabe drawled, laughing when Dean jolted forward in shock, barely preventing himself form head-butting his steering wheel.

"What the fuck?" Dean gasped. "Where have you been, Sam? Dad called, said you'd disappeared. What happened?"

Sam hesitated. He didn't really want to explain. What if Dean didn't believe him? Worse, what if he agreed with their Dad? Dean worshipped their Dad, after all. Gabe, seemingly, had no such compunction. "Johnny-boy locked Sam here in a panic room warded against me, and drugged Sam until he could barely speak with something that would have killed Sam if they'd used much more of it." His fingers rested reassuringly on the back of Sam's neck.

Dean's eyes narrowed and focussed on Sam. "Dad wouldn't do that, would he, Sam?"

Sam nodded. "He did." He cleared his throat, cursing himself. His shoulders hunched forward, desperate to appear smaller.

Dean ran his hand through his hair. "Why would Dad do that, though, Sam?"

Gabe's cough was guilty. "Me." He admitted. Dean's scowl spoke volumes for his current opinion on the Trickster.

"Why don't you leave my little brother alone then?" Dean demanded, puffing up aggressively.

Gabe leaned forward, his mouth directly against Dean's ear. "Sam is mine, Winchester," he growled, "And there is nothing you, nor anyone else, can do about that."

"Not even Sam?"

Sam huffed irritably. "I'm right here, guys."

Gabe had stilled at the implications of the question. "It will always be Sam's choice."

Dean immediately turned to his brother, completely ignoring the presence of the Trickster. "Choose us, Sammy. Dad and I. You know he only did what he thought he had to."

Sam swallowed hard before he looked at his brother, eyes red. "Why does it have to be a choice, Dean?"

Dean scowled, hands clenching the steering wheel tightly enough to hurt. "If that's how it is, just leave, go with your monster. We're better off without you, anyway."

Sam's fists clenched where his hands rested on his lap. "Fine." He rasped. "Gabe, please."

Gabe snapped his fingers and Dean was once again alone in the car. He dropped his head onto the steering wheel. _What had he done?_


	2. Chapter 2

Sam leant over the body, studying it critically. He hadn't planned on killing the man, he mourned silently. At least it looked like a cut and dried suicide, he cheered himself up. There'd be no one asking strange questions of the only stranger in the tiny town.

The man had been trapped in an illusionary world inside his own mind. It wasn't as powerful as Gabe's and was breakable, but it usually got the lesson learned. This man had apparently been irredeemable after all. Sam sighed. He had put a lot of effort into trying to reform the man too. What a waste. Three weeks of powering an illusion, and subtly influencing everyone around him, and he'd ended up dead anyway.

He'd have to leave the area soon. This was the fifth death in a relatively small area, and he was bored with this town now, anyway. Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, returning his attention to the last member of a human trafficking ring he'd discovered. Some people really were the absolute worst. Worse than any monster he'd hunted, before, or since. The rest of the town was alright. Typical humans, but alright, he could acknowledge as he slid the body away, hiding it from sight. He glanced around and grinned, before snapping his fingers and vanishing from the room. Take that security cameras.

Sam stumbled as he reappeared in his motel room, yawning widely enough that his jaw cracked. He collapsed backwards onto his bed, running his fingers through his hair and debating getting up again for food. Deciding against it, he booted up his laptop and lay back again, letting his heavy eyelids flutter shut gratefully. It felt like lead bars were glued to his lids.

Several high pitched beeps had Sam jolting back upright, suddenly wide awake and terrified, staring at the screen. "Gabe this had better be you." Demonic omen alerts were surrounding the town in a huge circle.

Hands settled on his shoulders as the mattress shifted from the angel's additional weight. "Not me, kiddo," he denied quietly. "We'd best get out of here before hunters start showing up, or the demons get a good look at us. They hate pagan gods as much as the angels do."

Sam hummed his agreement and Gabe snapped his fingers. Nothing. Sam stilled, even as Gabe flung himself off the bed and started cursing.

"But you could get in." Sam denied, fear tightening his throat. Panic always threatened when the demons got too close. He didn't know what the plan was for him, and the others like him, but demons were challenging in a way they weren't with anyone else he'd ever seen.

"They must be letting everyone in." Gabe theorised, curling his fingers over Sam's wrists. He sighed at the buzzing in his chest caused by skin contact with Gabe, struggling to keep his focus.

"But how have they managed to trap you?"

"I don't know, Samsquatch." Gabe was uncharacteristically serious. "I don't even know why they picked this town. They can't know you're here. Not even Azazel can overpower my Grace."

Sam shuddered. He knew more than he probably wanted to about the demon that had killed his mother and still wondered why Gabe would choose to be around the boy with the demon blood. He was clearly tainted, slated to be evil. Gabe's hand tightened on Sam's. He seemed to know what Sam was thinking. "Stop it Sammy." He rebuked quietly. "Your soul sings to my Grace, and you can feel it too. You are mine." Sam slumped forward, pressing his cheek to Gabe's chest, focussing on the muffled feel of Gabe's Grace, humming under his skin. It was hidden outside the safe house, even he could barely feel it, and that was through the link they shared. Surely he couldn't be bad or tainted if an angel cared for him, he reassured himself, fingers gripping the base of Gabe's shirt.

"Do you think we can just, well, drive out?" He wondered half-heartedly. "I can start a car with a thought now." If the demons were this organised, and this powerful, they probably already had the roads covered somehow, but it was always worth a try.

Gabe grimaced at the idea of a car, but nodded, however reluctantly. Sam huffed a laugh. He knew Gabe hated crs, he insisted they were restricting his wings. The wings that usually existed on a different plane of reality to his vessel. "It will only be until we're out of the area." He promised, already throwing things in his duffel. "If it works." He added under his breath.

"Now, Sammy," Gab declared, grinning happily, "That's no attitude to have." He adored ridiculous circumstances, and this was the worst they'd come across that wasn't inflicted by themselves in a long while.

They ducked out of the room, opening the first car he passed. The lock clicked under Sam's hands, the door opening silently. Trickster magic was so practical, Sam grinned happily, the car rumbling to life under his hands with a tendril of will.

"Why are trickster magics so arbitrary?" Sam asked, distracting Gabe as he pulled the car onto the road.

Gabe shrugged. "Trickster magic works with will and the mind. You're only limited by the physical limits of your body, your will and your imagination." He flashed a grin at Sam. "You're only limited by the limits of your body. Most stubborn human I've ever met, and your imagination is vile, even by my standards."

"Hey!"

"Sam, please. That paedophile hasn't had sex with anyone since you had your fun. He hasn't even _looked._"

Sam shrugged, even as he catalogued what Gabe had said thoughtfully. "I was surprised he survived, to be honest. It wasn't really part of the plan."

Sam cursed softly when he looked back onto the road. A squad car was parked across both lanes. Sam reluctantly slowed to a stop, exchanging a wide eyed glance with Gabe. They clearly had several very high up people possessed.

The elder of the two, a grizzled man with a heavy paunch approached the car. Sam wound the window down, the sulphur hanging in the air almost making him gag. "What's going on?" He asked, keeping his voice polite and mildly curious.

"Roads damaged," he explained. Liar. "We've had to close the road until further notice."

Sam nodded, even as he shifted the car into reverse. "This is a big move." Gabe muttered as they drove down the main street. His eyes were narrowed and angry, and Sam felt, suddenly, that this was the beginnings of the archangel Gabe kept so carefully hidden. "Nearly everyone in this town is possessed. It's big and daring, but what's the end game?" His lips thinned. "And where're the soldiers of the Host? Where are the angels? A demonic concentration like this should have the angels down from Heaven and smiting everything in sight. There should be dozens of my brothers and sisters."

Sam left the car in the same park he'd taken it from. As soon as both hands left the wheel, the engine stopped, spluttering. Sam stopped at the door, suddenly hesitant. He didn't even know why. Something niggled at the back of his mind, his instincts humming.

Gabe hesitated, staring at the Impala. He couldn't deal with that right now. When had the Winchesters arrived?

"Gabe?" Sam was leaning against the still closed door, expression quizzical, bangs falling in his face. "What's up?" Gabe grinned, taking the several steps to be too close to Sam. He hooked a hand behind his neck and dragged the taller male down, kissing him hard. Gabe had a very bad feeling about this.

"Sammy?" Gabe released Sam reluctantly, letting him rise to his full height. The Winchester even sounded the same, he noted irritably, except he had something that was oddly like a kicked puppy to him now. "What are you doing here?" He strode towards them, swaggering, still in leather and denim with the heavy boots.

Sam froze, turning slowly to face his brother. "Dean." He looked anguished. Gabe flinched. He was embarrassed to be seen with him in front of his family. Well. That was a kick in the teeth.

Sam hands grasping his so tightly it would have hurt if he weren't an angel reassured him. Gabe berated himself for the ridiculous insecurity. He could feel Sam. He needed to think, rather than react when it came to Sam and the Winchesters.

Dean pulled his brother into a rough hug, one that lasted almost long enough to be awkward. "We've been looking for you everywhere, dude." Dean ignored Gabe with an ease that left his speechless. He could smite this pathetic little human. Well, Michael would probably have him brought back, but that wasn't the point, dammit.

Sam was staring at his brother, clearly not certain how to respond. Finally, he moved. The silver knife was drawn from its sheath on his forearm and handed to his brother. Dean sighed, exasperated, but slit the skin easily enough, red blood rising to the surface. Sam passed him the flask of holy water before swallowing a mouthful himself. "What's going on, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head. "Not out here." He opened the door and settled on the bed, his hands clenched so tightly in his lap Gabe winced in sympathy. Gabe closed the door once everyone was inside.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying to stop the trembling in his hands. He didn't need know what to do with Dean suddenly here.

Dean leant against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Sam bit his lip. How could Dean be so the same? Stand there like nothing had happened, like no time had passed? He felt awkward and gangly, suddenly like the sixteen year old he no longer was. He felt like he took up too much space, too much oxygen. He was suffocating.

Gabe settled on the bed, hand working its way under Sam's shirt to press against the skin on his lower back.

Dean broke the awkward silence that had descended on the room. "So," he prompted, "What's been happening, Sammy?"

Sam flashed a grin. He didn't think he could tell his brother the truth. He rather liked his gig at the moment, and didn't want hunters after him yet. It would happen eventually, but if he could prolong his peace, he would. "Travelling mostly." He decided on, ignoring Gabe choking by his ear as he desperately swallowed laughter. "U.S. and Europe mostly. We did spend a week in Australia." Sam grimaced at the memory. He hadn't worn sunscreen, thinking it couldn't be that hot. It had been, and he had been so burnt he couldn't do anything afterwards. "Damn hot there." He grinned again. "But we hunted a bunyip. They exist, apparently."

Dean was gaping. "What happened to you?" He demanded. "You hated hunting. Wanted to be normal, go to college, get married, the whole apple pie life."

Sam shrugged. "We tried that, actually. Turns out normal is boring as hell. And the school was haunted. But," he acknowledged, "Hunting isn't all we do." He knew Gabe was leering over his shoulder.

Dean flinched, "Dude. I do not need to know about my brother's sex life. Especially with another dude."

"Hey," Gabriel sounded almost offended. "I do not technically have a gender."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, alright." He waved his hands, dismissing the whole conversation easily. "Help me with this hunt, Sammy, and then come with me after. I don't even see Dad often." He hesitated. "We miss you." Sam snorted. Dean, he could kind of believe. Dean had always looked after Sam, until suddenly he didn't. He couldn't really picture his Dad caring about anyone but his dead mother.

"I won't give up Gabe." Sam insisted, implacable. "And you have to swear neither you nor Dad will try before I even consider this."

Dean sighed and opened his mouth, expression mulish. He caigh Sam's eye and sighed, closing it again and scrubbing a hand roughly through his hair. What had happened to the Sam that hero worshipped Dean and did anything for him? "Fine." He grunted. Sam nodded, satisfied.

"This is all fine and lovely," Gabe drawled, "A real Hallmark moment. But you're forgetting the most important issue here."

Sam glanced away from his brother and nodded. "Right, the demons."

Dean stared. "What? I was following this rumour of suspicious deaths in the area." Sam didn't flinch. That was probably him, he acknowledged. His brother had been hunting _him._

Gabe snorted. "Who cares about a few murders? The whole town's possessed, and the only roads in or out are blocked." He scowled. "They've done something to prevent me leaving, too. It's a seriously high level demon doing this."

Dean scoffed. "You're the Trickster. Surely you're not that powerful."

Sam laughed, clear and bright. "You have no idea, Dean."

~~SPN~~

Gabe settled against the headboard, Sam resting against his thigh comfortably. Gabe ran an absent hand over the smooth strand of hair, enjoying the sensation under his fingers, and the fact that he wasn't flinching away, even in front of his beloved older brother. He handed Sam a conjured lollipop, which the eighteen year old took with a smile of thanks. Sam was avoiding using his own sympathetic abilities in front of his brother, but the power was still there and it made the body crave sugar. Even Gabe didn't know the hows and whys behind the physiological changes it caused.

"Since when do you like sugar, Sammy?" Dean asked suspiciously. Sam was always almost excessively health conscious as a kid, especially considering the life they lived.

"It's Sam," he corrected half-heartedly around the lollipop. "And a while, actually. I blame Gabe." Dean didn't respond, lips tightening in silent disapproval. He wasn't sure about this Sammy. But it was still his baby brother, so they'd have to see, he supposed.

"What are we going to do about these demons?" Sam not-so-subtly changed the direction of the conversation. "This town is awful, even without them and I want to leave already."

Gabe grinned around his own lolly. "You could always just go out there and tell them to leave, Boy King." He sounded far too amused for Sam's peace of mind. In an almost automatic response, he pinched Gabe's side, laughing with his brother when he squaled like a girl and squirmed away too far, toppling ungracefully onto the floor.

"Oh, Gabe," Sam leaned over and lifted Gabe onto the bed, one handed. His voice shook with mirth as he stuttered out an apology. Gabe huffed but tugged Sam back against him by his hair.

"I suppose it could be argued that I deserved that." He admitted reluctantly. "But," he added severely, "That was a crude trick by anyone's standards, and I am thoroughly disappointed in you, Samsquatch."

"Can we get back on topic?" Dean snapped, already irritated with the overly casual attitude displayed by the two tricksters.

"Sure, Dean-o," Gabe agreed easily. "Any bright ideas for eliminating approximately three hundred demons without one or more of us ending up dead or captured?"

Sam frowned. "How are there even that many on the surface? Ususally there's no more than a hundred or so, all over the planet." He hesitated. "Unless," he shared a significant glance with Gabe. "You don't think?" Gabe hesitated, clearly uncertain, and Sam continued. "He might think that I died when I was hidden." It was a weak suggestion and they both knew it, but neither could think of a better explanation.

"So you think he might have triggered it early?" Gabe mused. "It's a distinct possibility, if everything lined up like he wanted. It's possible," he admitted after a pause, "But demonic activity is still less than it would be, if a Gate was open somewhere in the continental U.S."

"Would you care to explain?" Dean's tone was frigid, hazel eyes flat and suspicious.

Sam glanced at Gabe. "Not really," the angel denied. "We don't want you running off and doing something stupid."

Dean surged to his feet, the legs of the chair squealing on the old linoleum floor. "You asked me, Dean." Sam kept his tone warning and Dean sat abruptly, betrayal splashed across his face.

"Sammy," he began. Sam felt the usual surge of guilt when Dean used that particulat tone, before it was overwhelmed by something else.

Anger. "No." It was sudden and almost irrational in its severity. He'd never get used to the emotional fluctuations caused by the power constantly resting in his body. "You don't get to do this, Dean." Hazel eyes widened in shock, even as green narrowed. "You make me choose, and then come back and demand answers? I'm not being made to feel guilty over this." His tone softened. "You don't get all the answers 'just because' anymore Dean. There's been a lot of things you weren't a part of because of ultimatums you gave and you have to learnt to deal with that if we're going to be brothers again."

Dean slumped, the aggressive bluster deserting him abruptly, shoulders slumping. "You're right." He stared fixedly at the wall. "You're right and I'm sorry, alright." He glanced over at Sam. "So, we good?"

Sam swallowed the sigh that wanted to escape. There was another attempt at guilting him there. It was probably a good thing he was a trickster and his conscience was a little skewed because of it, so he wasn't too bothered. "We're good, Dean." He relaxed back against Gabe, curling his hand around the angel's bare ankle, enjoying the soothing sensation of Gabe's Grace hum against his soul, in time with his soul.

"Unless he has better control of the demons than we were anticipating?" Gabe mused, stepping right back into the previous conversation after the awkwardness of the Winchester's tangent.

Sam's hand tightened on Gabe's ankle as he stared at his brother, a memory floating near the surface of his mind. It might even work. "We can figure it out later. Right now, I might have an idea of how we can get rid of all the demons here in a single hit." He grinned, a shimmer of madness in his eyes. "It's risky, but I think it's workable." He fixed his eyes on his brother. "But you have to trust me here, Dean. Absolutely."

Dean met his eyes fiercely. "Of course I do. You're my little brother."

Sam laughed. "We'll see." Gabe prodded his shoulder, encouraging him to get on with it. "We announce the presence of the Righteous Man and stand him in the middle of a huge Devil's Trap. I can paint that tonight under smokescreen. I'll keep it under smokescreen tomorrow, too. We'll have to do it in the morning, so the fog isn't suspicious. But we cover the Righteous Man in protections." He tilted his head. "Enochian, maybe?" He queried Gabe, who grinned.

"I like it."

"Who is this Righteous Man?" Dean asked. Sam thought he was justifiably wary when Gabe turned to him, grinning with far too many teeth exposed.

"Me?" Sam was sure his brother would deny that squeak until his dying day. "But. What? I don't understand."

"Oh, you're not the Righteous Man yet, but if everything goes the way the demons plan, you will be. Instead, you're going to help us kill a lot of demons, and never become the Righteous Man."

"I don't know what about this plan to pick apart first." Dean decided.

Sam grinned, leaning forwards eagerly. "Do your worst."

"You can't kill demons. You just send them back to Hell."

"Usually," Gabe agreed, drawing a gleaming silver blade from somewhere, "This will kill nearly anything. But definitely a demon. It was designed when I was created, for me to kill demons." He smirked at the hazy lust in Dean's eyes. "You can't have it, unfortunately. It would burn you up before you'd killed your first demon." Dean's face fell as Gabe tucked it away again.

"Okay," Dean tried again. "The demons will tear me apart."

Sam scoffed at this. "No, they want. They need you. Demons are trying to kick start the Apocalypse, and they need you for that. You're not slated for Hell, so if you die and go to Heaven, no Apocalypse. Azazel would tear apart whichever demon did it, and probably a hundred other just because." Dean was gaping and Sam grinned. "Don't worry, we'll cover you in protections so they can't actually touch you anyway."

"Do I even have a choice?" Dean asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"Of course." Sam exclaimed. "This, or die trying to fight your way out of town." Dean and Gabe both snorted.

"Some choice." Dean grumbled before sighing explosively. "Fine." He agreed. "But," he added warningly. "If I die, I'm going to haunt you forever. Bitch."

Sam snorted. "Whatever. Jerk."

~~SPN~~

Dean stood nervously in the centre of an almost invisible Devil's Trap. His hands were bound, as were his feet. The chain linking his limbs, weighing down his arms, was also bolted to the ground, preventing him from moving more than a few steps in any direction. He shifted nervously and the chains rattled loudly in the eerie silence. He was not comfortable with this.

Sam was on the roof of a building directly in front of Dean. He smiled reassuringly at his elder brother, and Gabe was nowhere in sight. Dean was not comfortable with that, nor with the unfamiliar symbols painted on his chest, back and down his arms. "The Righteous Man stands amongst you." His voice carried further than it should, echoing over the silent town. "Whom shall be the one to tempt the Righteous Man on the path that leads to Hell and freedom for your Lord?" There was a subtle rustle. Dean cringed. "Whom shall stand highest in the regard of the General? Whom shall be the one to create the harbinger of the Apocalypse? Who shall be the one to end the scourge of humanity upon the earth?" Sam's voice was thunderous. The last sentence echoed oddly, hundreds of voices whispering it in awe.

Everything happened at once.

Black eyed people burst from everywhere, common sense overruled by lust. None of them even noticed the lines of the Devil's Trap until they were already inside. Even then, the crush from the followers prevented them from trying to escape as they all scrambled towards Dean.

A circle formed around him, none of the demons quite willing to get within arm's reach of the man. They all stared at him eagerly with their solid black eyes.

"Well, Dean Winchester." One of them started after a moment that felt like an eternity. It's fingers curled into fists in anticipation. Sam snapped his fingers and was suddenly in the circle.

"Hey Dean." Sam grinned at his brother as the manacles clattered open and fell to the ground. Several demons in the front few rows recoiled at the sight of him. "Lovely day to kill a demon." He settled a hand on his brother's shoulder as he spoke, keeping his other hand low and hidden as he snapped his fingers, taking them back to the rooftop, away from where Gabe had suddenly appeared.

"He was standing _right_ there," Dean started, gobsmacked.

"The whole time," Sam agreed, grinning. Several demons starting backing away at the sight of Gabe, until they hit the edge of the Trap. Screams reached them as the bodies nearest Gabe lit up, black smoke burning even as it rushed out of the bodies. The people collapsed, creating an obstacle course for Gabe to manoeuvre. Gabe had a clear space around him as demons tried to flee.

"You could help, Sammy," he called up, "Or this is going to take all day."

Sam glanced at his brother, and almost immediately, there was a terrifying crash. Gabe staggered upright from what was now the remains of a building, blood dripping from a cut in his face.

Sam snarled. They had hurt _Gabe._ That was the biggest taboo anyone could do. Sam flung a hand out, a physical representation of will to control something he didn't have excellent control over. His hand closed into a fist. Several demons staggered, a terrified wailing rising from the creatures on the ground. Sam twisted and yanked. Viciously. Black smoke exploded from the remaining possessed.

Blood dripped from Sam's nose, his mouth filling a moment later. He blinked the redness from his vision, gritting his teeth and pulling harder. No one hurt Gabe. Gabe was _his._ Unearthly, disembodied screams rose from the Trap before all the smoke vanished into the ground and blessed silence fell over the town again. Sam felt his legs give out as his vision blacked. He thought he heard Dean calling his name before surrendering to the blessed nothing of unconsciousness.

Sam returned to awareness slowly, breaking through in stages.

First, hearing returned. "What the fuck was that?" That was Dean, Sam realised. Dean sounded very angry, he noted worriedly. Dean should be happy. They'd killed all those demons, and they could never hurt anyone again.

Maybe he'd realised Sam was a monster, a freak. Something not human. Something a little demonic himself. Probably didn't want a monster freak for a brother. Sam couldn't blame him. Dean was very regular, human all the way through, and lived in a black and white world where the monsters weren't human. Sometimes Sam was glad he'd never lived in that world, or he would have put a bullet through his own brain when the visions started a year ago.

Gabe, in comparison, was calm, a surprise for the usually volatile archangel. "That was Sammy." His tone was level and uncompromising. "Exactly the same as he's been since he was a baby." Sam was glad Gabe hadn't said 'since he was born.' That would have been a lie, and he didn't want to lie to Dean. Truthfully, it was Sam since the night he was six months old, Sam since Azazel had _changed_ something in him. "Well," Gabe amended, "Except for our bond of course. But that's not responsible for the ability to kill demons. Even I can't do that. Sammy's quite powerful, you know."

Physical sensations returned next. Sam almost immediately wanted to cry. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and his body ached down to the marrow o his bones. He lost track of the conversation.

Eventually his eyes fluttered open, wincing against the light from the kitchen. It felt like it was drilling into his brain. Gabe leaned over him, honey eyes soft and liquid with relief. He dropped a kiss on Sam's nose. "Good to have you back, Samsquatch."

"How long?" He managed to rasp. Speaking felt like dragging sandpaper down his throat.

"Three days, kiddo." Sam grimaced, casting his eyes around for Dean. He was terrified his brother had left after discovering Sam was a freak, that there was something wrong with him. "He's next door." Gabe's eyes were soft with understanding. Sam nodded. At least he was still here, even if it seemed he couldn't be in the same room as Sam.

Gabe ran his hands up the sides of Sam's throat, cupping his jaw in his hands. "You never do that again." Gabe glared at him. "I have never been more terrified in my life. Including when the Virgin Mary cussed me out when I told her about the honour of Immaculate Conception." Sam choked on a laugh. "And," One thumb brushed over his cheekbone. "There was only one fatality, my fault, so I dropped everyone back in bed and made them think it was a particularly vivid hallucination from a chemical leak." Gabe knew him too well sometimes, especially considering he rarely cared about human casualties.

Sam croaked another painful laugh, relaxing back against the pillows, enjoying the slight weight of Gabriel on his chest.

~~SPN~~

Gabe grumbled as he sprawled across the back seat of the Impala. "I don't know why we couldn't just meet him wherever he stopped for the afternoon." He shifted again, the rustle of feathers loud in the silent car.

"I want to actually spend time with my brother, Gabe," Sam sighed, "And considering he spends most of his time in the car or hunting, we drive. You don't have to stay, you know."

Gabe snorted disbelievingly. Sam didn't know him well if he thought Gabe would leave him on his own, especially with his idiot of a brother.

"I know you've missed him," he stroked Sam's shoulder. "But surely the two of you can take a few days off to reacquaint yourselves."

Sam bit down on his lollipop, teeth aching. "He insists people will die, and if we could have stopped it, and didn't, it may as well have been our fault."

Gabe almost let his jaw drop. His Grace actually trembled in something he was fairly sure was disbelief. Grace emotion wasn't as easy to decipher as humanity. "We saved _hundreds_ of people this week, and managed to find thirteen hex bags circling the town so that people could leave again, and that doesn't deserve a break? And people say our morality is skewed." He dropped his head on the back of Sam's seat.

Dean slid into the front seat, the engine roaring to life and Black Sabbath spilling from the speakers. "Let''s blow this joint."

Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He didn't remember Dean being this exhausting, or this demanding. He was furious Sam wouldn't explain about the whole demon-killing ability he appeared to have spontaneously developed. He really didn't want to explain to his brother about visions and demon blood, or about the training he had undergone to get to the point of killing demons, the telekinesis and mind control that he had mastered first.

Dean stalked back into the room, slamming the door and falling face first onto his bed, phone falling from his limp hand. "You alright?" Sam felt compelled to ask, barely turning his head. Dean wasn't looking at him anyway.

Dean just groaned, and Sam wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "Dad called." The words were spoken after several minutes of silence, muffled by the mouthful of bedding, jolting Sam from his light doze. He tensed. He and Dad had been butting heads over everything before the panic room incident, and he wasn't sure he was ready to see the other man just yet. He hoped Dean could at least allow that, although he was doubting it, the mood his older brother had been in since they'd left the small town.

A knock at the door woke Sam. He glanced at the alarm clock and began seriously contemplating homicide. It was four am. He glanced over at Dean, who looked back at him apologetically. "Sorry, Sammy." He flipped his phone to show a text from their Dad. "He must have tracked the phone."

Sam rose and stalked towards the door, scowl firmly in place. "Sam." John pushed past his younger son, barely acknowledging him. "Hey, Dean."

"Dad." Dean stayed seated, eyes darting nervously between his brother and father. Sam stood tensely by the still open door, shoulders tense.

The door closed, and Dean glanced back, his brother gone. Probably back to Gabe, he supposed bitterly. John didn't even react, turning his attention to Dean and demanding a report. Dean hesitated, staring at the light in his father's eyes. It was an expression he recognised, one he usually only got when talking about the bastard that killed his mother. That it was directed at his brother terrified Dean. He drew a deep, steadying breath. And lied.

Sam staggered, the ground uneven and shifting under his feet. He had no particularly destination in mind when he had snapped himself away. Just _away_.

He glanced around. It was daylight, midmorning if he didn't miss his guess. Sand, white and pristine, shifted under his feet, the ocean in front of him so blue as to be almost blinding. Sam stumbled as he stepped forward, sliding down the dune in a landslide of displaced sand. He walked to the water's edge, letting the waves lap at his bare feet, vaguely relieved he'd slept in his jeans and a shirt, and just breathed, noticing something odd but disregarding it as unimportant. Why was his family always so hard? He loved his brother, adored him. Sam knew, with startling clarity, that if he hadn't met Gabe when he did, he and Dean would have been frighteningly co-dependent, even worse than they had been. Even with Gabe, being away from Dean left a ragged, aching wound in his chest. And John. Well. He couldn't help but love his father. He had kept them safe, and taught them how to keep themselves alive, but he hadn't been the best of role models for either boy. So, he loved him, he just didn't like him very often.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" A hand grasped Sam's shoulder, directly over the mark Gabe had left so many years ago. "What are you, boy?"

Sam snapped, stumbling and retching when he reappeared, the demon still grasping onto his shoulder. He was going to be bruised, he knew. Apparently demons weren't meant to be passengers to trickster power. Good to know. Sam swiped a hand over his mouth, grimacing at the bile burning the back of his throat.

"Oh, a trickster, hm? My Master will be so pleased with me. He will find you amusing, I'm sure." Something cold slipped around his throat before he could steady himself enough to exorcise the thing. His mind was spinning out of control. Demons were collecting supernatural creatures? What the hell was going on?

The power he had become so used to cut to a trickle, something he could barely feel. Sam gasped, hands flying to his throat to grasp at the collar moulding to his skin. He turned, staggering and weak, to face the demon, revulsion and horror churning in his stomach. "What have you done?"

The demon grinned at him. "You look like you'd make a pretty pet for the General. He doesn't have a trickster." It shrugged. "So I'm collecting you. Personally, I'd find it far more pleasurable to kill you, but the Boss wants a menagerie, and who am I to deny him?" The demon leered at him and Sam shuddered. At least if he were captured, he could escape. Eventually. After getting this damned collar off.

How hadn't he picked up that the demon was there? Sam berated himself furiously. He'd been captured while wallowing in self-pity. Gabe had always insisted it was an unhealthy habit, and this was the most unhealthy situation he could recall being in. Now he was aware of it, the stink of sulphur was overwhelming, preventing him from catching anything else. What was wrong with him? How could he allow that level of distraction without back up nearby?

The demon grinned, exposing the even white teeth of its vessel. Sam's stomach lurched as the demon abandoned its vessel, wrapping itself around him, viscous and heavy. His skin crawled under the psychic weight of it.

Sam was being torn apart at a molecular level, cells shredding as pain tore through him like white hot knives. And then suddenly it was over.

Sam staggered when his feet hit the ground, nerve endings aching, as the demon shoved him forward. There were, he decided as the cage door closed with a decisive clang, distinct downsides to being classifiable as a supernatural creature. The ability for demons to touch and interact with him in their smoke forms was a major one. Maybe even more than hunters, most of who saw anything not-completely human as something murderous and monstrous as beings that killed regularly, like werewolves or vampires.

He focussed his throbbing eyes to study the lock. The symbols engraved on the lock and bars were vaguely familiar.

"No use, kid." He turned to the cage on his right. The vampire was gaunt, teeth descended. "They're customised. You won't be able to even touch them." The vamp bared his teeth. "_They_ find it funny to push us into them."

Sam nodded, still examining the symbols, recognition tickling at the edges of his consciousness. "It's a corrupted form of Enochian." The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer. Of course demons would have that as a language. It was convenient, actually. He read Enochian, and spoke a bastardised version of it. Nothing like the angels obviously, with their shrieking true voices. The words were clear when he looked again. Clear and unpleasant. Binding runes and pain runes, entrapment and fire, all tied in to the trickster rune. It was nauseating. But he should be human enough to touch it.

He reached out a hand carefully. Theoretically, this shouldn't be debilitating. Just agonising. He should, hopefully, still be conscious and functional by the end of it. If he was still human enough. They only lasted a limited time, after all, before needing to recharge.

His fingers wrapped around the bar. Heat and pain tore through him, tearing at his nerves. His blood was boiling in his veins, skin melting, sloughing off. He pressed his brow to his wrist – and when had he gotten to his knees? – gritting his teeth and riding out the pain like Gabe had taught him. Blood filled his mouth. Apparently, he had bitten through his tongue. Eventually, the pain receded, leaving him gasping and light-headed, but well enough to think. He could feel the vampire staring at him, the back of his head tingling with the awareness.

He couldn't pick the lock. After all that pain, and he couldn't push his arm through the narrow space between bars far enough to manoeuvre the picks the way he needed to. Cursing softly, he withdrew his arm, securing the pick in the seam of his shirt. He swayed at the drain on his power, vision shifting and fading. It had taken a mammoth effort to draw the will to do something he didn't usually need to think about. He shuddered. He'd never realised how much he'd come to rely on the borrowed abilities flowing through him, courtesy of Gabe.

Scanning the bars again, he was relieved he hadn't tried to use his own power. The power feedback loop was a nasty piece of work. If drawing the power hadn't made him pass out, which was an unlikely scenario at this point, the feedback loop would have used his own strength to power the runes, and the chance of him surviving that would be slim.

"Damn, kid." Sam turned his eyes to the vamp. "How are you still conscious?"

Sam grinned and rose to his feet, swaying only a little, and inordinately grateful the cage extended to the roof, so he didn't have to spend the entirety of the time he was trapped here sitting or stooped uncomfortably. "I'm just that good." He offered the vamp an easy smile. He had nowhere near the animosity his family did towards supernatural beings, especially if they could be of assistance to him. He sometimes wondered what he would have been like without Gabe's influence. For a bloodsucker, Sam noticed absently, the same way he noticed the sin smudge on everyone, he was pretty clean. Less dirt than most people he tricked. "I'm Sam," he offered.

The vamp looked startled. "Matthias." He was swaying on his feet, slurring around him teeth.

"When was the last time you fed, Matt?"

He scowled, teeth lengthening desperately at the word. "The bastards won't let me feed unless I kill them." At Sam's raised eyebrow, he continued. "That's not how I do, man." He spread his hands, entreating. "That's not what my nest does. We bonded together because most of us were turned against our will. We feed a little off a lot of people, and leave them with a feeling like they've just had mind blowing sex." He shrugged, sinking to the floor as his legs seemed to simply give out under him. "We don't want to be monsters. Holding onto your humanity is hard. But it's totally worth it."

"Don't I know it." Sam muttered, coming to a decision. He pushed up his sleeve, drawing the small knife from his boot and drawing it neatly over his wrist. Matt's head snapped up at the metallic scent of blood, eyes wide and dark.

"What are you doing?" His voice rasped, saliva filling his mouth. His gums _ached._ Sam extended his wrist, careful not to touch the bars, just in case they'd powered back up already. Matt whimpered piteously, reaching out, thin fingers grasping delicately at Sam's wrist. His head lowered, lapping gently at the cut, tongue rasping over the soft skin of Sam's inner wrist.

Every pass of his tongue encouraged the blood flow. Pleasure swirled through Sam, slow and heady. He swallowed a groan, fingers of his free hand digging into his own thigh. He pressed against the cold concrete floor as it pooled in his stomach. If this is how it felt, Sam had no idea why vampires had to attack people. Surely there'd be people willing to combine feeding and sex occasionally for them.

After only a couple of minutes, Matt lifted is head, second layer of teeth retracting as he slumped bonelessly to the floor, mouth and teeth stained with his blood. "Thank you." It was a fervently whispered prayer. He licked at his teeth and lips as Sam bound his own wrist with a strip of material torn from his shirt. "Your blood is amazing." Sam grinned as he tied off the makeshift bandage, not particularly worried. He knew he'd stop bleeding within a minute, even with the anticoagulants he knew was in vampire saliva.

"Oh, how sweet." A new voice rasped from behind Sam. Matthias froze, eyes wide and terrified. Sam shifted, lifting his head and staring at the demon in the centre, flanked by two brawny male vessels. Yellow eyes glowed in the low light, mocking Sam, making him wish he was free. Azazel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow. Really short chapter. I'm sorry about that. **

**Thanks to everyone that has reviewed, followed, favourited, or read. I love you. So, enjoy today's rather paltry offering. **

Gabriel paced anxiously, hands gripping at his hair. He glared at John and Dean. "How is it," he managed to grit out, "That every single time he's with you chuckleheads, my Sam goes missing?" Gabe was growling by the end of the sentence, too frantic, too frightened to keep calm in front of the humans. He had no idea what to do. Sam was alive. Gabe couldn't accept anything else. He could feel him, that tiny piece of Grace that was connected to Sam's soul bright and alive. Frightened, and in pain, but alive. He could feel nothing else, not even a vague direction.

"How dare you-?" John started, eyes flashing with fury as he rose to his feet. He towered over Gabe, and was obviously trying to intimidate him.

"Shut up," Gabe snarled, his wings flaring and curling aggressively. The humans couldn't see them, of course. He didn't want to blind or smite Sam's family. Jut for them to tell him where he'd gone when he left them.

John opened his mouth, face reddening as he tried to force words out through his frozen vocal cords. Dean just stared, shell-shocked, open-mouthed. Gabriel knew his Grace was slipping from his control, electrifying the air, making it difficult for the humans to breathe. He reigned it in. It took more effort than he expected.

He started pacing again. "What if they found him?" He muttered, no longer speaking to the Winchesters in the room. Panic was trying to break free. Gabe swallowed it down, forcing it into the back of his mind. He was useless to Sam if he panicked.

"What if _who_ find him?" Dean demanded, his fear a weight in the room. He wasn't as close to his brother as he could have been – would have been without Gabe – but it was a near thing sometimes.

Gabe growled, before gasping as agony flared through Sam. His knees collapsed under the weight of someone else's pain. "Oh, by my Father." He groaned, gripping his temples and resisting the urge to pray for the pain to stop. He couldn't have his brothers and sisters interfering, especially not now. He pulled at his hair, desperately trying to distract himself so that he could just focus.

"Gabe," Dean was kneeling in front of his face, ignoring whatever it was that John was saying. Gabe was ignoring the words. The tone was angry and demanding, and that was enough for Gabe to ignore him. He wasn't interested in what the eldest Winchester wanted.

Gabe swallowed the whimper of pain that wanted to escape. He was an archangel, dammit. The Messenger of God, Gabriel. "Someone's got Sammy," he managed to grit out. "They're hurting him." He blinked rapidly, hating that he was linked enough with his vessel, and far enough from his Grace that it cried when he was in pain. That it displayed so much of his weakness in front of humans, but especially in front of these humans, almost made him wish he was back in Heaven, content to follow orders and have no will of his own. At least that wouldn't be so painful.

Dean was low and intent. "It's alright Gabe. We'll find Sammy. We'll find him, and we'll kill whoever it was that's hurting him. I swear."

~~SPN~~

Azazel stared at the trickster that one of his demons had captured. He hadn't entirely believed they were real before that. It looked like a boy, all overly long limbs and large hands, and floppy brown hair. The furious light in its green eyes, malicious and considering, was the only thing that gave lie to the humanity of its appearance.

"What's your name?" He demanded. He'd had it for three days now, no food, no water, and it looked no different to when it had arrived. Maybe this thing would be what granted him access to Purgatory and all the monsters and gates therein. It was worth further consideration.

Sam stared at Azazel and smiled, willing away his hunger and his dry, scratchy throat. The collar didn't affect that ability, at least, and he rarely needed to eat as it was. If only the sugar craving was that easy to eliminate. It was almost unmanageable, and he had no idea how much longer he was going to be trapped here.

"What's your name?" Sam lifted his eyes to meet the yellow ones of the demon he hated above all else and smirked.

Azazel's smile slipped when Sam remained silent, hands gripping one another where they rested in his lap until the knuckles were white. Demons had blood flow. Who knew?

The fist that connected with the side of his face was huge, and he staggered, blood exploding in his mouth. He spat and cursed. "What the Hell is your problem, dick?" The demon stared at him for a moment before guffawing loudly. Sam turned his face away. "I am going to enjoy killing you." He muttered, narrowing his eyes.

He'd been ignored for longer than he thought he would be, since Loki was technically the only real trickster in existence, and he'd taken the time to experiment. They clearly had no idea he was one of Azazel's 'special children,' because all his psychic abilities still seemed to be intact. He wasn't completely devoid of sense, no matter what Gabe insisted. He was just very bad at self-preservation.

The demon's expression contorted, even as Azazel smiled in anticipation. The demon jabbed, snapping Sam's head back and blood exploded from his nose, running down his face and dripping from his chin. He flexed his fist, the amount of pleasure he felt when the demon staggered and gasped frightening in its intensity. He closed his fingers into a loose fist and twitched his wrist in a barely visible movement. It was a low level demon after all. No point giving away all his tricks so early in the game.

The vessel staggered, before dropping like a marionette with its strings cut, limbs sprawled on the stone floor.

It was sudden, immediate panic. He had four demons dead before Azazel managed to regain control of the room. Sam had barely shifted his feet, and his hands hung loose by his side. Subtlety was occasionally a necessary sin for a trickster after all.

Azazel was on his feet, face contorted with rage. Sam was momentarily distracted by the ridiculous throne of skulls he had been sitting on. It looked ridiculous, and extremely uncomfortable. "Ava." The word was bellowed. A round faced girl hurried through a door half hidden behind the throne.

She dropped to her knees by his feet, eyes lowered to the ground. "Master?" Her voice was husky, face hidden by lank, light brown hair.

Azazel reached down and gripped her by the hair, ignoring as her face contorted in pain. "What have I told you about killing my demons without permission, Ava?" His voice was gentle, and all the more frightening for it.

The girl blanched, eyes wide in her suddenly bloodless face. "I'm sorry, Master," she wasn't sobbing, but by the catch in her voice, it was a close thing. "It won't happen again."

"See that it does not." His eyes narrowed. "I need you alive, Ava. That does not mean that I need you whole, or unbroken. Do not test me again. Do you understand?"

Ava nodded rapidly in his grip, swallowing repeatedly. "Yes Master. I'll behave. I swear it." He released her and she buckled to the floor, face pressed into the stone. "Get out of my sight." Ava fled back through the door she'd initially entered through, the door slamming after her.

Azazel turned his attention back to Sam, smiling genially. The abrupt switch was disconcerting. Sam repressed a shudder. "You didn't answer my question, trickster. What is your name?"

Sam smiled, dimples flashing. His shoulder tucked forward, and he hid under his bangs. It made him look small, younger than his eighteen years. "I am only a disciple," he demurred, fingers twisting together in a display of timidity. "I am called Seamus."

"A disciple?" Azazel looked genuinely interested. Probably wanted the biggest and the best for his new zoo. Sam chewed on the inside of his cheek. What was the point of all this, his menagerie? Surely Azazel hadn't simply become a collector of all things non-human? Although even Gabe hadn't been able to figure out his end game. He thought potentially the beginning of the Apocalypse, but that didn't quite fit with the information they had either.

"Of Loki, of course."

The demon scoffed. "Obsolete Norse weaklings." He dismissed, already disinterested in them. Sam shrugged. The Pagan Gods did pretty well for themselves. Most of them, after all, were the physical embodiment of forces of nature. "Put him back," Azazel waved a hand. "He bores me."

Sam wasn't dragged before Azazel for another week. He waited impatiently for something to happen. Surely Azazel wouldn't be stupid enough to take him at his word. He must have figured out something was happening, the number of his soldiers to have disappeared the last few days.

Azazel came to him personally on the seventh day. Sam ignored him, eyes closed as his head pounded. His throat was dry and scratchy, his tongue thick and unpleasantly furry. He was human enough to still be affected by dehydration apparently.

"Sam," the voice crooned. He determinedly kept his eyes shut. Plausible deniability wasn't really an option here, but he was going for it anyway, of only to piss the demon off. "Samuel Winchester." A hand grasped his chin. "Did you really think you could lie to me, Samuel?" He was dragged to his feet by the hand on his face. Sam flexed his jaw. This feeling of helplessness was infuriating.

He wasn't strong enough, still, to kill Azazel, but one day. One day that damned soul was going to be burned out of existence permanently.

Sam remained stubbornly silent as he was dragged in a difference direction from the week previously. He stumbled along as the floor became more uneven. His arms were pulled back until shackles could be fitted over his wrists. He was tall enough that it barely stretched his shoulders. It would hurt eventually, he knew, but not for quite a long time.

The girl, Ava, approached, when Azazel stepped back. She was smiling eagerly. "Your little stunt last week got me punished," she growled, eyes alight with pleasure at what was ahead of her. "So I'm going to enjoy returning the favour."

Azazel smiled like a proud father. "I'm just going to ask you a few simple question, Sam." He sounded almost sympathetic. He was quite good at this, Sam noted absently, determinedly tucking his consciousness away, letting the trickle of power available to him cocoon his sanity. "If you don't answer to my satisfaction, I shall be forced to let Ava have her fun with you."

He crossed his arms over his chest, radiating smug satisfaction. He thought he had him, Sam realised, almost wanting to laugh. He thought Sam was going to crack under the threat of torture, or whatever a demon hybrid could do. "Now, Sammy, how did you avoid getting pulled into the little battle royale I set up?"

The Trickster smiled. "I am Loki. That claim comes before all else."

Azazel scowled fiercely as Ava caressed her knives before selecting one and approaching, looking perturbingly aroused.

Sam returned to consciousness slowly, to hear Azazel rebuking the girl. "-questions I wanted answers to."

Ava sounded put out and petulant. "He wasn't saying anything, anyway. I don't know why it matters."

Sam let himself hand limply between the chains, swallowing the heavy taste of sulphur. He grimaced, hidden by his hair. He cracked his eyelids, watching as Azazel fastidiously cleaned a neat slice on his wrist. Sam frowned, focussing internally. He really hoped the demon hadn't done what Sam had a sneaking suspicion he had.

The unfamiliar hunger curling in his stomach was the first hint. The psychic abilities were like a physical weight on his soul, heavier than he had adjusted to. He cringed, remaining silent and limp as he was dragged back to his cell by two nameless demons. _Oh, Gabriel, angel of Justice. _

~~SPN~~

Sam gasped as he was pushed back into the cage, his burned shoulder brushing against the bars. His jaw flexed, but he remained stubbornly silent as he carefully lowered himself to the ground. He ignored the demons smirking at his bleeding, exposed back as he turned towards Matthias and grinned.

His back twinged when he turned his head. He had learnt very quickly how much Ava like knives, and whips, liked the way skin split, and the neat lines of scars. Azazel was determinedly feeding him demon blood and using anything he could think of to get him to kill demons with the extra power.

The weight of the demon taint was heavy, and painful. He loathed it with everything in him.

From what he'd seen of Ava, the blood should have been highly addictive. If she was without for even a day, she collapsed, screaming like someone was ripping her apart from the inside. He didn't like to consider how long it would take for him to get that bad. He had yet to have a day where he was deprived of it.

Matt watched him silently, still in the way only vampires were capable of. The demons ignored him as they locked the cage and left the small holding area they were stored in. Sam was aware of ten others, with anywhere from one creature to three or four. He heard them sometimes, screaming, wailing.

Sam shuffled unsteadily to the edge of the cage, pressing his cheek to the ground and sighing. The concrete was cold on his flushed skin. He was fairly certain a whole section of his back was infected. He was feverish, and he could smell it. The skin was spongy and pus leaked from it whenever it was touched.

"How long can you keep this up, Sam?" Matt sounded genuinely concerned. Sam flashed him a smile, wincing only slightly when it pulled on the cut on his cheek.

"As long as I need to." His grin brightened. "Not much longer now." He touched his neck. He still had no idea how to get the collar off. _Saint Gabriel, holy angel, please find me._ Sam prayed silently, grasping at the threads of the connection they shared.

Matt leaned forward, almost touching the bars. Something in Sam's expression was wrong, and genuine concern stirred to life within him. "Are you sure?" He asked tentatively. Angering a trickster was as bad for supernatural creatures as it was for humans.

Sam carefully offered his blood, not even flinching when his skin touched the bars. Pain was oddly overwhelming, and his receptors had seemingly shut down. Sam was fairly certain he was going mad, and that was terrifying.

Matt tasted it and recoiled sharply. Sam's blood tasted of light and lighting, and strengthened him in a way nothing else ever had. Now. Now the taste was overwhelmed by sulphur and heat. "What have they done?" He gasped. There was something so wrong with that.

Sam's face twisted in silent revulsion. "Demon blood, Matt." His voice was softening, slurring his words, and Matt knew he wouldn't have the trickster for much longer. He was only coherent while he was in pain, but before it overwhelmed his senses. "I've always been an experiment, but Azazel is force feeding me his own blood."

Matt opened his mouth, but Sam was still talking. "There's on;y meant to be one survivor, but there's two, and now no one knows what's going to happen. This is meant to be testing me, but I'm saving it up, you see. Almost enough now. Almost enough." The last word trailed off and Sam wrapped his arms around his knees, mumbling nonsense to himself.

Matt sighed. Sam had retreated back into himself again. It was taking less and less time for that to happen.

Gabriel felt a tug, far to his left. _Saint Gabriel, holy angel, please find me._ The prayer was weak, but aimed directly at him. "Sam?" He turned towards it, grasping tightly to the hint of location and snapped his fingers.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is a shorter chapter again. Apologies for the delay, writer's block struck and I spend days staring at paper in vague confusion. Thanks to all those that read, followed, favourited and reviewed. Now, here's the tiny chapter**

**~~SPN~~**

Matthias crouched in the centre of his cage, head buried between his knees. He could still hear Sam screaming and begging. And who was 'Gabe'? His fists clenched. Sam was not going to last, and the fool boy refused to admit it. This had been happening for nearly two weeks, and whoever the boy thought was going to rescue him clearly wasn't coming.

Whatever this demon was doing to Sam was breaking him. Matthias was not used to caring about individual humans, and it was a novel experience, although one he could have done without experiencing in this way. For over a hundred years, he had been disconnected from the concept of humanity, and from the potential of his own.

Lenora had reminded him what it was to truly be alive, or as alive as a vampire could be, in any matter. He was grateful, however much it hurt. Sam needed someone to ground him, to stop him losing himself completely. There was the added benefit that keeping Sam as together as he could manage spat in the eye of that monster, and the little human he kept as a pet, and that was something he was willing to put himself into completely.

A body appeared in front of the cage, wild-eyed and frantic. Dark blond hair was rumpled, hanging in front of eyes the colour of fine whiskey. "Sammy?" He finally faced the cages and his whole body froze, before he bared his teeth in obvious rage. Matthias was relieved he felt no need to breath, for even he felt the rage the male was emanating. For the first time since he escaped the monster that turned him, he felt genuine fear shiver over him.

"Sam is in the hall." He offered timidly. He didn't want the attention of this furious force on him, especially considering that he could not recognise what manner of creature it was. His gums ached, teeth wanting to descend, warn off the threat. He did not think it would be particularly effective. In fact, it may just rile the creature further.

The male turned his attention to Matthias, and Matthias felt the weight of it, like the shackles he was forced into for Azazel's entertainment. "Who are you?" His voice rumbled like thunder and earthquakes.

Matthias gestured to the cage bars. "I am Matthias. I am a guest of Azazel." His lips curled on the words, teeth sliding free of his gums without conscious consent. The male examined the markings and began to curse fluently in a language Matthias did not recognise.

"I am Loki." He offered once he had himself under control. His eyes sparkled like the entire situation was a game, albeit one that he planned to win most convincingly. His eyes narrowed slightly. "There are forty demons in this warehouse." His eyes met Matthias. "Will you fight, if offered?"

"I owe a debt to Sam." Matthias offered frankly as he met gold eyes. "If I am to arrive in Purgatory, I will go gladly today, tearing them apart."

Loki grinned, an expression shockingly light for the situation. The bars were pulled apart with an ease no creature Matthias knew of could manage. Loki was allegedly the Trickster. Matthias had his doubts, although he didn't know how to express them to Sam, who seemed to view this being with the closest thing to true reverence Matthias had seen in more years than he cared to consider.

As Matthias stepped out, Loki offered his already bleeding wrist. His blood tasted of light and bubbles and lava on his tongue. It was overwhelming. "One could develop an addiction." He commented, keeping his voice even as he met Loki's eyes. By the sudden fear in his eyes, Matthias was sure he had understood. "But let us find Sam first." He flashed a grin as he headed towards Sam's voice.

Loki drew a silver blade from inside his jacket, lips curling in a rather off-putting smile. "Let's." He dropped in half a step behind, a confident swagger to his walk, the blade hanging easily at his side.

Matthias stepped out first, the short Trickster hidden in the shadow of his body.

Azazel turned at the uncertain shuffle from his demons. "Vampire. How did you get out?" He stalked forward several steps, leaving Sam unguarded except for the brunette girl always at his side like a particularly obedient dog.

"Oh," Loki stepped out casually, a smug smile plastered on his face. "That would have been me." He spun the blade at his side. "Hey Sammy."

Sam lifted his head, hair stuck to his forehead, blood dripping from more wounds than he cared to consider. It ran freely down his body, soaking through the remains of his clothing.

"No," Sam moaned, head dropping forwards again to hang heavily between his shoulders. "Please. Don't. I'm sorry." His breathing was harsh and ragged, voice hoarse. "P-Please." Loki had frozen t the first whimper. He seemed to suddenly snap out of it, a snarl slipping from his lips. Matthias kept his eyes on Sam. "Not this again. Please."

"You should not have hurt my Sam." Loki managed to grit out, before exploding into motion.

Sam was in so much pain he could no longer differentiate between them anymore. The demon blood burned. He knew that. His veins and arteries, his bones, everything burned. His brain rattled in his skull, thoughts torn from his mind before he can grasp them.

The new pain stopped, leaving old pain crossed over older pain and phantom pain. His left hand twitched. Ava leaned in, too close. Sam's breath caught in panic. "That's right, Sammy. Cry for me." Her lips brushed his cheek with every word. Her tongue lapped at the blood on his cheek. "You're going to stay with me, aren't you, Sammy?" She was panting. "Not like all those others. They were weak, and they left me." Her hands settled on Sam's bare chest, nails digging into the open wounds, fresh blood spilling out past her fingers, coating her hands and freshening it on his skin. "You're not weak, are you Sammy?"

"Get away from him, you tainted, sadistic bitch." Sam was sure he should know that voice. It hurt to hear it, worse than the physical pain. He had betrayed them so badly. Ava was wrong. He was weak, and he deserved whatever she did to him. Why were they taunting him? He didn't deserve them. Sam's breath caught on a sob. Ava screeched in pain before falling silent for the first time in hours. Ava liked to talk as she tortured.

"Oh, Sammy." The voice spoke again, closer and softer. Sam cringed. He could feel them reaching out for him. "C'mon, kiddo." The shackles were released, the infected skin on his wrist tearing with it and making him whimper in pain. They burned, too. His knees buckled as he swayed, struggling to remain conscious. It was safer to be conscious. The pain was different when he wasn't there for it.

Gentle hands caught him, an arm wrapping around him, supporting him. Sam kept his eyes clenched shut. If it was a hallucination, he didn't want to know. He wanted to cling to it for as long as he could, because he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to last. "What have they done to you, my Sam?"

A low voice spoke, and the delusion responded. His delusion had more than one person. Sam almost opened his eyes in his startlement. He kept them closed at the last minute, not wanting to see Azazel and Ava smirking at him because she'd pushed the image into his head. It wasn't something Sam had considered as an ability, but it was exceptionally effective.

Sam was struggling to focus past the roaring in his ears that was getting alarmingly loud. That was a support for the Ava theory. He thought he heard someone yelling his name before he lost consciousness.

~~SPN~~

Gabe stared at the wreck of a body that was meant to be his Sam. Even his soul, usually so bright, so vibrant and shining, was dulled, the edges of it ragged. Shadows flickered over it, the demonic taint strengthened by the blood Azazel had forced into him. It looked like a soul that had been to Hell.

He settled lightly onto the eddge of the bed, smoothing a gentle hand over Sam's shockingly short hair. Matthias had been forced to cut it off, since Sam was being forced to recover the human way. The runes that demonic bastard had carved into Sam's skin resisted all attempts of Gabe's at healing, regardless of which way it was done. The fact that demons had angel repelling wards, even if only minor ones was a serious cause for concern. Gabe was contemplating temporarily returning to Heaven to speak to his brethren, to warn them. Whatever madness was planned, this was far above the scope of any Apocalypse Gabe had seen planned.

He glanced again at Sam, who slept like the dead. Only the tiny rise and fall of his chest, and the dulled glow of his soul reassured Gabriel that he was even alive. He should have woken by now. Unless the trauma was too great for his mind to heal from, he should have woken. Loki felt true terror at the thought of Sam Winchester being gone, just another soul in a Heaven. Even the demon blood, or sudden lack, should have stirred him. The prevention of healing also stopped him from cleansing Sam completely of the blood. The taint was almost gone, but it would take time, and there was always a chance Sam would be damaged by it.

Anger stirred in his Grace at the thought of what Azazel had done, what he had risked, forcing Sam. _Violating_ Sam. The demon had best hope Gabe wasn't the one who finally caught up to him, for it wasn't going to be pleasant. The bastard would think he was back on the rack in Hell by the time Gabe was done.

He reigned in his temper, calming himself with several deep breaths, an exercise he had picked up from humans that was helpful in stilling his Grace.

Once calm, Gabe expanded his Grace, cocooning Sam within his own being, wrapping his soul in the safety and light of angelic purity. Gabe was tainted, always on the edge of falling, but never close enough to not be able to pull himself back from the edge. He had been pulling back from it since he had found Sam, too intent on the boy and his destiny – thwarting his destiny – he almost hadn't had time to darken his Grace further.

Sam shifted, rolling onto his side, facing towards Gabe. It was the first time he had moved under his own power since he lost consciousness and it made something tight and uncomfortable in Gabe's chest loosen in relief. Sam's soul pulsed with Gabe's Grace and he reached for it. Sam's soul stretched and reached back. Gabe gaped at the sensation, slumping against the headboard, face pressed into the wall to muffle his groan. He wanted Sam to do that again, whatever that was, conscious.

Sam shifted and groaned, his soul pulling back into his skin, shuffling closer to Gabe. He exhaled heavily, not certain if he was relieved or disappointed the feeling was gone.

"Gabe?" Sam seemed puzzled. "What-?" He cleared his throat, wincing. His throat was raw, torn, from screaming and the abrasiveness of the blood forced down his throat. "What's going on?"

Gabe hesitated, fiddling with the water glass and helping Sam take several sips. "Not too fast," he murmured in gentle rebuke, drawing the glass away. "What do you remember, kiddo?" He didn't want to make it worse by dumping everything that had happened on his Sam at once. His fingers stoked lightly up and down Sam's back, and he didn't look too closely at who the motion was meant to be soothing.

Sam shuddered, a fine tremor making his whole body shake minutely. "I remember Azazel and Ava." He choked to a stop, tears slipping from the corner of his eyes. "They fed me demon blood, Gabe." He gasped, tears still silent. Gabe loathed that Sam had already learnt to cry so silently by the time they had first met, although the fact that Sam cried at all now was reassuring. He had been emotionally stilted for years until they'd left the Winchesters.

It took Sam nearly a minute to speak again. "I'm tainted, Gabe. You shouldn't be near me." He gasped. "By the end, I needed it."

"Oh, kiddo, no," Gabe murmured, stroking a hand over Sam's hair. For all his talk of tainted, he still instinctively nuzzled into the offered affection. "You're not tainted. Demon blood is dangerously addictive to humans. You're not tainted. You're mine." Gabe sighed, he kew Sam wasn't going to completely believe him, regardless of how convinced Gabe himself was. It was just Sam, to burden himself when he didn't need to. He was getting better, but Sam still had a tendency toward martyrdom and self-flagellation. It seemed to have been built into both Winchester sons.

Sam's head pressed more firmly against his hand. "Why is it gone?" His tone was plaintive, and he sounded very young. "Is this another trick?"

Gabe lost his internal battle, shifting so that he was wrapped around Sam in a hug. "You're safe, Samsquatch." He inhaled the clean, earthy scent of Sam and relaxed. It may be hidden under the sulphuric burn of the demon blood remaining in his body, but it was there, and becoming more prominent as he waited. Sam was here, he was healing. Gabe could deal with anything, as long as that was true. "You don't have to believe it yet. Sleep for now, my Sam, and I'll keep your dreams easy until your body heals." Sam was asleep again before he'd finished speaking. Gabe lay on the bed, silent and watchful as Sam slept.

Sam woke, more comfortable than he could remember being in weeks, and almost completely pain free. There was a burn in his throat, and there were several familiarly itchy point on his skin that indicated healing stitches.

But there was a warmth pressed into his side, a heavy, reassuring weight that had been missing, although he didn't think he'd actually experienced it before this, either.

He cracked open his lids carefully.. The light had turned the inside of his eyelids red, and he had a feeling he wasn't used to light as bright as this was going to be.

He winced as the sun assaulted his painfully sensitive eyes. He stretched subtly, puzzled. This wasn't like Ava's mind tricks. She never managed to get the light bright enough, she had been with Azazel in his attempt at recreating Hell on earth, and had forgotten how bright the sun could truly be. She never managed the weight of others either, no demons were willing to touch her, even most of them thought she was a little mad, and a lot frightening.

Maybe he was out? He strained to remember, and pain tore through his head, making him slump back into the pillows, groaning quietly. Even that amount of noise hurt his aching throat.

The scent of the bed was irritatingly familiar, the buzz of a mosquito just out of sight. The fingers lightly brushing at his temples were also familiar. "Sammy?" The voice was soft and soothing, tone familiar and concerned. That was wrong. That voice should never be concerned, especially not about something like him.

He tried opening his eyes again, cracking them open the smallest amount he could manage. Even that caused him to groan, the brightness making his eyes tear. Gold eyes met his, warm and reassuring and concerned. "Gabe?" The eyes filled with tears and Sam panicked. Gabe wasn't supposed to cry, that wasn't allowed. Especially not over him. Gabe was never allowed to cry over him. He struggled to force himself to move, to reach for the suddenly sobbing Trickster. "Gabe?" His voice was high, panic spiking.

Arms wrapped around him and he was arranged until he was tucked against Gabe's chest. "Sammy." Gabe was rocking slightly and his voice wavered. His hands touched every part of Sam the shorter being could reach. "I couldn't find you, my Sam. I promised you, and you were suddenly just gone, and all I could tell was that it had been a demon."

Sam ignored his screaming muscle, forcing his arms to lift until he could grasp the sides of Gabe's face. "No," he insisted fiercely, hoarsely. "You do not get to blame yourself for this, Gabriel." Gabe's fingers still moved, one trailing up and down his back, making him shiver, the other toying absently with his hair. "You couldn't predict what was going to happen."

Gabe snorted. "I could have predicted John," he muttered.

Sam lifted his head from where it was slumped against his own raised forearm to glare at him half-heartedly. "Not the point, Gabe." He insisted, tightening his grip on Gabe's face. They both knew it was nothing more than a gesture. On his best day, Sam had no chance of physically overpowering or restraining Gabriel. But the gesture mattered to Sam, so Gabe responded to it, allowing Sam to hold him in place.

Sam ignored the muttered 'then what is?' "There was no way you were going to be able to foresee that a demon was going to somehow be able to attach itself to me while I was jumping. You couldn't predict that it was going to be able to retrain me like that and drag me to Azazel's monster zoo." His eyes widened at the realisation. Matthias. He was a terrible friend. But Gabe came first. Gabe always came first, and Sam didn't' know when that had happened, but it was now an incontrovertible fact of his life.

He pressed his forehead against Gabe. "It was not your fault." It was his. Not that he was stupid enough to tell Gabe that.

Gabe sighed, breath fluttering over Sam's lips. And, as always, he seemed to read Sam's mmind, because he spoke softly, a thread of steel to his words. "Then it was not yours, either, Sam." He frowned at the mutinous expression that immediately overtook Sam's features. "No, Sam. I know you. You're going to somehow twist this until it's all laid at your feet. But it's not." He didn't even know how Sam managed it sometimes. It defied logic, but he always had a sequential reasoning chain that even almost sounded valid until he actually thought about it. He met Sam's eyes, and gold hardened. "It's Azazel's. This whole thing was Azazel's fault." Fingers tightened in Sam's hair. "Remember that, my Sam."

"But if I hadn't stormed off-"

Fingers snapped by his ear, and Sam felt his vocal cords sieze. He'd forgotten how unpleasant that feeling was. "No. Dammit Sam. _Listen_ to me." Sam listened. An archangel damning something was more significant that anyone else saying the words. The archangels held power in it, and Gabe very deliberately never used the words. He may not have returned to Heaven, but he was still an archangel, after all. "In no way are you at fault or to blame." His eyes were locked with Sam and Sam couldn't look away. "Fuck whatever anyone else says. You are mine, and if I cannot blame myself, then neither can you." His voice rang with conviction and Sam felt himself relaxing, sinking bonelessly against Gabe. Ava couldn't fake this, and if Gabe said it was alright, it had to be. Gabe wouldn't lie to him. His hands settled on the angel's chest as his breathing deepened.

Gabe shifted, squashing the slight surge of guilt that rose for manipulating Sam's emotions like that, however necessary it had been.


End file.
